


Alibis

by i_shot_the_story



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Other, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8205388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_shot_the_story/pseuds/i_shot_the_story
Summary: Collection of morally dubious Charisk moments. Terrible crime children loose in the city in a vague but consistent modern AU. No real plot. (Maybe.)





	1. mine looks better

 

_my black eye casts no shadow, your red eye sees no blame_

_florence + the machine – kiss with a fist_

 

* * *

 

"I don't like it," Chara says, suddenly. You roll your head to the side, cold blades of grass rubbing across your cheek. They have that _look_ – eyes wide, irises like bleeding jewels, a frozen half-smile – that look that means they've decided to do something interesting and they won't let anyone stop them. Nothing good ever comes out of that look. You don't smile much unless you do it on purpose, don't really bother using your energy when most of the time it doesn't really affect anything, but the corner of your lip twitches anyway.

* _Don't like what?_

"How it looks on you. It looks stupid. Let me fix it."

* _You_ _can't just_ _erase a black eye, you know._

"Obviously," they snap, pushing themself up to lean on one arm. "I never said anything about magically erasing it. Don't act like you're dumb."

* _Well, it's not like I can change that, either._

They scowl at your raised eyebrow and settle back onto the ground, which pretty much means that you win. You'll just wait to see what comes next. In the meantime, you turn your head up again, joining them in looking up at the stars, or at least what stars you can see through the smog and light pollution. Just a few for now, although more will poke through soon when the night gets deeper.

"Quit making fun of me. It's not endearing. Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

* _Some older kids picked a fight with me. I didn't fight, though._

"Why the hell not? What, did you get _scared_ or something?" You can hear a tinge of irritated disbelief slip through. "Where else are you hurt?"

* _Nowhere else. I told you I didn't fight them._

"So if you _didn't_ , then how'd you get out of it with just a _black eye,_ liar?"

* _It's not a lie. I never fight. I win._

Chara rolls over and shoves you away, grumbling. You wriggle back into place with a deliberate smirk and they poke your bruised eye. It's more sensitive than you'd have expected.

You wonder just how late you'll be here. Chara tends to get restless, but you're happy to lie right where you are, disconnected from the world, way out in this little park that no one uses anymore. Some homeless people used to come here, but then the two of _you_ started to make it a habit. Now this place belongs to Chara and Frisk as soon as the sun goes down.

"At least tell me you got something out of it."

* _Five or six bucks. One of them got away._

"Good, but not good enough." They sit up, shift onto their knees, stare down at you from above, and there's a little flutter in your stomach. "Just get up already so I can fix your smug, stupid face." You wouldn't mind it if they stayed right where they are, but they're clearly impatient so you sigh and follow along, rolling your eyes as they half-drag you into place, both of you settling back to face each other. They look you over like a painter trying to figure out how to make a random drip seem like it was on purpose.

* _So are you going to tell me what you're doing, or do you just want to keeping staring at my souvenir?_

"Stay still," they say, grabbing the side of your face with one hand and forcing you to keep steady. "Quit it with all the fidgeting." You have no idea what's coming, so you'll play along. It's always more fun like that anyway.

You've barely finished the thought when they sock you right in the face, knocking you over completely while you hiss in pain. Getting punched in the same eye twice wasn't really on your agenda for the day, but hey, you'll take it. They shuffle over, not quite on all fours, studying their work as you wince and chew your lip to distract from hot, brutal pulses of bone-deep ache, and then they nod, decisively.

"There. Mine looks better on you."

Looking up again, you notice their pale face is speckled with dew, little spots that glint just the slightest bit in the smothered moonlight. You're about to sign... _something?_... but your mouth's gone dry for some reason and it's a little distracting. Chara's kind of adorable like this, all absorbed in looming over the still-twitching blue and purple butterfly they've got pinned to a board, their cut-ruby irises slightly glazed in deep thought, and suddenly you know exactly what you want to do.

* _Come a little closer._ _There's something on your face._

They look like they're about to get angry again but apparently reconsider, slowly and awkwardly lowering themself closer to your level. Maybe they feel like they owe you just a little after that punch, even if the truth's the complete opposite. You squint as if you're searching for something, let the moment stretch until they start to look just the slightest bit uncertain...

... and then you ram your fist above their cheek as hard as you can, dissolve into giggles while they roll in the grass cursing your name and swearing vengeance. The whole spectacle is totally worth watching through to the end, but against all odds something else catches your attention for a second: a single spread of golden petals all out of place in the dim light, stem already snapped. It must have been half-buried by the dirt and green before the two of you knocked it loose.

 _"_ What the hell was _that_ for?!" They're finally back upright, daggers in their eyes. You shrug.

* _I wanted us to match._

They flinch away, cheeks going pink – with their skin, they're hopeless at hiding it – and you slip the flower into their hair while they're trying to remember to get mad enough to think of a comeback. You hum, satisfied; that outfit was boring without an accessory, and their sweater's big stripe does a great job bringing out its color.

The flower's something else, obviously, but it kind of reminds you of a buttercup. Small, pretty, and toxic to livestock.

It's perfect.


	2. last night

  _i don't know but it has occurred to me_

_the punishment that they threaten constantly_

_it's only real if they could just convince me_

 

_streetlight manifesto – down, down, down to mephisto's cafe_

 

* * *

 

* _So,_ _did_ _you have fun last night?_

You lean half over the railing, elbows on cold metal as you're staring down at long broken slopes, rocks, yellow grass, little roads, all spread out and stretched below, city lights in the distance. Somewhere there are probably still cops looking for you, but you know they don't have a decent description, and there's no trail to follow in the first place. You _are_ still legally dead.

"That's one word for it. Another one might be 'if I ever thought you weren't suicidally thrill-seeking now I know better.'"

* _Phrase. That's thirteen words, and I'm not great with math, but..._

"Shut up. At least it's a good number. And probably how many years I'd spend in jail if we fucked up."

They're actually sitting on the railing, the border between the mountains and the city, between wild-grown freedom and a labyrinth of frantic games. Chara is always sitting on some kind of border, you think, always where they have the most choices, always ready to make a snap decision.

* _I'm the only one who got seen._

"You say this as if it makes everything fine."

* _Well, doesn't it?_ _Nobody is going to find a dead kid._

They shoot you a Look.

"Okay, and what happens when someday you push your luck for kicks and actually get cornered and it doesn't matter. What's your big plan for that?"

You blink.

* _Find a new place to squat and steal_ _some_ _more supplies. It's not exactly complicated._

"Yeah, and what if _you_ can't get away? Fuck your little shack. You knew what I meant."

* _I always get away. That's kinda my thing._

"And. What. If. One. Day. You. _Don't._ Frisk?"

Okay, they _sort of_ have a point there, even if it'll never happen. You won't be caught. Not again, not by anyone. You own the streets, whether or not anyone's noticed; back alleys memorized, routes from anywhere to everywhere in your head, which stores are risky and which ones are like taking candy from... well, literally from some shelves, you guess, when you feel like stealing candy. You really only do that so you can sneak chocolate bars into Chara's stuff when they're not looking, though.

But if you _did_ run out of options, if your back was up against the wall...

* _Well, I have this can of mace. And_ _all these_ _spiky things to drop on floors._ _And this big rock in a sock. A rock sock._ _Maybe a s_ _ock rock?_

"Where do you _keep_ this stuff? I _know_ it can't fit in your pockets."

You wink and put your gear away again, twisting aside so they can't see. Then, slowly, you start to grasp the actual point of the conversation, and something is warm and hilarious behind your ribs.

* _You were_ worried _about me._

Chara flinches and tries to sneer. It's... pretty pathetic.

* _Hey, Chara._ _What's your middle name again?_

"Don't have one."

_* Oh right, it started with a T, and then an S, and I think there was a 'dere' in there somewhere –_

They thwack you upside the head and you let yourself dramatically slide down until you're sort of collapsed against the railing like a rag doll, bent in half with the top rod squishing into your stomach. Oof. The pose would probably hurt if you weighed more than a feather on the moon.

Chara _caaaares_ and they're letting it slip. You want to needle them about it, poke around and see what you can find, but... for some reason, it just doesn't feel like the time for trolling. This is disconcerting; you're used to it _always_ being the right time to screw with people.

"Hey."

And then a silence, which you'll just sit through. They'll get to the point as soon as they stop worrying about whether or not they want to keep pretending to be a porcupine.

"Would you kill somebo –"

* _Yes._

"Let me _finish?"_

You make yourself frown, but it's hard. Chara has this way of making you smile, laugh, and do it for _real._ Most of the time you just stay blank unless you need to be adorable to get something or get away from something, and everything stays nice and comfy nestled on the inside. This kid, though... it's like just being near them makes you forget what it means to be _neutral._

"Would you kill somebody, if. You thought they might."

* _Yes, Chara McAnimeStereotype, I would totally kill someone to protect you._

"I did not say _anything_ about needing to be _protected_."

* _No, but I'd do it anyway._

 _God_ it's funny to make people blush. That feeling when you've slipped past somebody's armor and broken their control, knowing that in the moment some part of them is yours to play with, is something you _own._ Chara acts so tough, and they _are_ tough, sure, they'll survive anything and they'll slash apart anything that gets in their way, but _you_ still have a piece of them and there's _nothing_ they can do about it. That little piece is the best toy you've ever stolen.

"Now what. Are you going to ask the same thing? Because that would be exactly the kind of bullshit you'd pull."

Literally incredible. They're just so _transparent!_ You'd reach over and pinch their cheek if they weren't sitting on a railing overlooking a hideously fatal drop. But you already know what to say, and that's gonna be way more fun. It's even the truth.

* _I didn't think I needed to ask when the answer was already obvious._

"Do you _want_ me to fuckin' stab you. Is that what this is."

You take a moment to blatantly contemplate the idea, just long enough for them to look at you weird, smile, shrug.

* _Well, I mean, if you only stabbed me a_ little _bit... Anyway, the real question is what we should do with the money._

"Who cares? I'm buying a new knife. You do whatever you want with your half."

* _I always do whatever I want._

The city is still shining out there, ten thousand white-gold lies waiting to be plundered, the faint sound of a siren far, far away, and a thought comes into your head, one that you haven't had in so long that it feels almost alien. You've got no idea what it was that brought this out.

... Okay, maybe you do. You can fool anybody but yourself. It's just not something you ever _expected_. Someone whose life you care about more than you care about having fun? That person can't _possibly_ exist, but they obviously do, because if anything happened to Chara you'd probably spend the rest of your life looking for a way to take this boring planet and grind every last bit of it to dust.

Oh well. No point putting anything off once you've got it down. Here's to hoping they don't respond by just turning around and leaving and never coming back.

* _Seriously, though... I'm 'dead,' but you're not. And you're a reckless dork. So..._

"So _what_. I hate all these cliffhangers you stick in conversations. Say it or don't."

* _You really might get caught, someday. Do you ever think we should stop doing this stuff?_

They're very, very quiet, and they turn to you slowly, purposefully, face carefully blank. Unlike you, they have to work to do that.

"No."

Alright, then. You can be okay with this, knowing they really accept what they're getting into. You smile back... and it occurs to you that Chara might, in fact, also own a little piece of _you._ Welp. That was mostly an accident, but it is what it is. You'd better just resign yourself to an epic life.

* _Good._

Chara stares deep into your soul, or at least they try to, and they seem to like whatever answer they find in there. You pull yourself back up and onto the ground, grab them by the back of their sweater and yank them off the railing into the dirt, hop back out of the way when they try to swipe at you.

* _Okay, I'm getting bored sitting around here. But, I found this locked dumpster downtown behind a_ very _interesting store, and I haven't done any serious diving in a while..._

"You got any picks or pick substitutes on you?"

* _Nope. I have a rock. But tomorrow I kind of want another chance to ask whether you had fun last night. You in?_

They dust off, get up, stick their hands in their pockets, don't quite meet your eyes.

"Do you really think you have to ask?"


	3. distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a kid in a rusty shack stitching an open wound in relative detail. You are now warned.

_cling in a way that'll drive us insane_

_wait 'til you find the end of the line_

 

_silversun pickups – pins and needles_

 

* * *

 

* _And you tell me I'm the one who comes across like a wimp._

They muster a decent glare through their obvious embarrassment. You shuffle some things around on the table for easier access. Gloves, check. Antiseptic, check. Alcohol, check. Gauze, check. Bandages, check. Tape, check. Tweezers, check. Scissors, check. Thread, check.

Needle, check.

"I'm not acting like a _wimp,_ " Chara huffs. "I just wonder if you actually know how to do this." You snort and twirl the scissors between your fingers, lazily, before setting them aside again.

* _I know how to do this a lot better than you know how to juggle knives._

"Bullshit. I was distracted. End of story. If it's anyone's fault it's yours." Oh, what's that now? Do they really think they can back that up? You weren't even there. This is more fun by the second.

* _Couldn't keep your mind off_ _all of_ _this, huh?_

You put on your best pouty-cutesy face, which isn't actually a very good one at all, and exaggerate a luxurious hair flip... or at least the closest thing you can manage without having longer hair. They reply with a pair of middle fingers, grind their teeth when you wipe away the little bit of excess blood the motion squeezes from their upper arm.

"Hilarious. Get it over with if you actually can."

Oh, you'll get it over with when you're good and ready. First they get to sit here and think about how stupid _juggling actual knives_ with no prior skill was, and you get to make fun of them while they stew and grumble. You take a few moments to re-examine the wound; even a little bit worse and there might have been serious damage. A little part of you still wasn't totally sure this really was an accident, but they don't have any reason to bother lying. Sigh. What are you gonna do with this kid?

* _You_ _were_ _cut_ _ting_ _it close with this one, you know._

There's a short silence while you wait for them to process what you just said. Ah, yes, there's the infuriated groan you wanted.

"That is terrible. That's terrible even for you."

You frown, brush an imaginary tear from your eye.

* _Ouch._ _Those words_ _really cut deep._

"Have I told you that you are the actual for real worst?"

* _Pretty much daily, ye_ _s_ _._ _I_ _do my best to disappoint._ _Now hush for a minute and let me get set up._

They swing their legs back and forth off their chair, pretending not to be nervous while you go about sterilizing things and familiarizing yourself with the specific equipment. Wouldn't want to make things worse than they already are, or let anything get infected. You make sure your gloves snap audibly while you're adjusting them.

"Where did you even get all of this. Why is it here."

* _No_ _one_ _pays attention to what go_ _es_ _on at Walgreens,_ _a_ _nd it's here in case any_ _cool kids_ _get funny ideas and_ _hurt themselves_ _playing with sharp toys._ _Now_ _stop talking_ _so I can use my hands._

Thread the needle, lean in close to get another good look at their arm... better be _sure_ there's nothing extra stuck in there before you do this thing... Doctors and hospitals are not an option, so this has to go off without a hitch.

You let your hand rest on their arm, poke at the fissure with your thumb – gotta sort of squish it around, get a good view from every angle – Chara flinches just the tiniest bit – and it's... hypnotic, now that you're paying even closer attention. Their blood matches their eyes and somehow that's what you see in it, melted rubies welling up, shining in lamplight, running down the curve of their skin.

Blinking, you pull back just a bit and realize you've been ghosting your gloved thumb along the edges of the wound. In fact, you're still doing it, and suddenly you wonder why they haven't said anything. You turn your head to see Chara staring, almost perfectly still, at exactly what you were absorbed in.

Without really thinking, you move your thumb again, just a bit, and this time you see and feel the little shiver that runs through them, notice how their eyes go odd along with the motion. You swallow. You wish you didn't have this stupid glove on. You wish a lot of stupid things.

"Do it," they rasp, and you're nothing if not reliable, so you do. When the needle pauses against their skin, their free arm snakes just barely around your side, shaking not quite imperceptibly. You swallow again, harder, and press forward. Their fingers curl like claws just below your ribs, biting in enough to sting through your shirt. You don't stop.

Through the skin, across a small but deep crimson ravine, through again. Every time you move they tighten their grip on you, tighten _everything_ , and when the needle meets resistance they _dig in_ thumb and all and aaaagh if their hand was a little bit higher it would hurt way less but it's not, it's down juuuust where there's no bone to keep _your_ squishy flesh from squishing together so much.

It hurts weirdly intensely, actually, at least for something harmless. Every time they dig in further, chew the inside of their cheek, the foundations for little bruises under your shirt become more and more definite, a sort of razor-white clarity spreading from the points of contact. Every pass you make with the needle is smoother, cleaner.

And then, abruptly... you're done. You look back to Chara's face for the first time in who knows how many seconds or minutes and they're flushed, wobbly, disoriented. There's a hint of tears in their eyes, but... for once, no one seems to have anything clever to say. What does your own face look like right now? You honestly can't guess, and that's _really_ unusual.

You bandage their arm as smoothly as possible and for some reason your heart is pounding, the air in the room is too warm despite the time of night and the season. The gloves, smeared red at their tips, finally come off. Chara's fingers twitch in your side, relax and fall away. For some reason you feel like that should have happened sooner. You're about to flop back and take a deep breath, but...

Just a bit lower on their arm, just under the freshly wrapped cut, there's a thick drop of blood that must have oozed from the very lowest point before you'd finished. It's slick against the tip of your finger and you almost feel as if you've ruined it somehow by touching it, disrupting a perfect shape, but mostly you're just staring at the red on you. When you look up again your eyes lock right onto Chara's, completely by accident. They still haven't said a word.

You can't help what you do with this; it's in your nature to mess with people, especially _fun_ people. That's why you raise your hand up to their face, poke your finger at their lips, waiting for them to pull away and sputter and call you an unbelievable asshole. That's definitely the only reason.

But that's not what happens at all. Not even close.

Once the _actual_ event's over with, you clear your throat for ironic effect, pull back your arm, and suddenly the two of you have become completely allergic to looking each other in the eye, which is kind of a funny change from fifteen seconds ago.

* _Well,_ _that was_ _a fun_ _operation_ _._

 _Now_ they'll have a retort or at least some vulgarity to throw your way. They'll punch your shoulder or push over your chair, threaten something scary that you both know damn well they'd only do to someone else.

"Yeah," they say instead, weirdly subdued. "I'm... going to get some air." And boy do they ever. It's barely five more seconds before you're alone in the room. You're pretty sure you've learned something important from all of this and you have absolutely no idea what it is.

The fingerprints bruised into your side feel like they're going to be vivid given a bit of time. A very strange and illogical part of you wishes you had a camera. Maybe you'll lift one of those cheap disposable ones tomorrow. Maybe.

When you're done cleaning off and putting away your little medical stash you follow Chara outside to where they're leaning against a wall just at the edge of a streetlamp's gold circle, hands in their pockets like they think they're cool, staring off into the distance and listening to the hum of power lines overhead. Once it's obvious they somehow haven't noticed you, you flick their arm through their sweater, right over the stitched up idiot-wound.

" _Shit!_ Christ, it's not my fault I didn't see you there."

* _I was thinking a bit, and I guess knife juggling is a pretty neat trick._

"Of course it is. Why else would I be learning it?"

* _So maybe you actually_ should _... practice more often._

Chara goes still just for a second, and you wiggle your eyebrows. They elbow you in the side. You wonder if they realize they nailed you right in the bruises. You wonder if they even realize they left bruises in the first place.

"I practice plenty. Not like I was gonna _stop._ Dumbass."

* _Edgelord._

"Nerd."

* _Mind if I watch you next time? If it's not too, you know._

"If it's not too what."

You flick their arm again and grin while they try to strangle you with their mind.

* _If I'm not too much of a distraction._


	4. bad religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cut me some slack and pretend cell phone technology was 5 or 6 years more advanced than it should've been in 1995

_like a hummingbird in silence_

_like the blood on the door_

 

_bad religion – generator_

 

* * *

 

It's tricky to be a kid in a store without an adult around to keep you on a leash. You'll go unnoticed at first, most of the time, and you can hide so easily that it's almost sad, but people notice pretty fast if you don't make yourself scarce even faster, so there are a couple of important things to remember about living like that.

1) People get nervous when they see an 'unsupervised' kid. Nervous people like to make noise and commotion. Nervous people are more likely to call the cops. When that happens, it's time to run.

2) People assume you're either lost or stealing, and both of those lead to capture attempts sooner or later. Usually sooner. They're also a lot more likely to assume _you're_ stealing than Chara.

3) People don't actually _like_ kids, and that motivates them to find someone else to deal with the problem – usually someone who'll have a _'responsibility'_ to deal with the problem.

4) This one mostly applies to you, but people are a lot more likely to try to take control of a kid who won't talk. It's always that, too, that you _won't_ talk, as if the idea that you _can't_ never even crosses their minds. The upside is sometimes people who see you signing usually think you're deaf, which makes it way easier to tell what they're up to. The downside to the upside is that people are even _more_ likely to try to take control of a deaf kid than a kid they assume is just being bratty.

At least Chara believes you when you tell them you can't speak no matter how hard you try. They almost tried to make you prove it somehow, once, but... you gave them a _look,_ and they realized in that moment that if they pushed any further, they would never see you again.

You like to think they trust you enough now that they aren't doubting anything. You like to think they still assume that if they try to push you on that they will never see you again. You hope so, because they'd be completely correct.

See... you'll budge on a lot of stuff. The truth is that you're a flexible person, and you're good at being exactly what someone else wants you to be. But when you're with Chara, you like to imagine that the person you are is probably 'yourself,' this elusive _actual self_ that's hiding somewhere inside the endless labyrinth of masks.

The instant Chara makes you feel like you have to force yourself to be someone else is the instant you leave and never come back. That won't change. Ever. But you're pretty sure it goes both ways, and the idea that you'd _ever_ want Chara to not be Chara is completely silly. That helps you worry less.

You're a whole lot of things. You're an actor, a thief, a gambler, a fighter, 'homeless', legally dead, a liar, a monarch, the god of the streets. Sometimes, though... sometimes you just want to be Frisk.

Today you're a thief, though, which is one of your favorite roles to play, especially if you're pulling some kind of complicated shenanigans. This one isn't complicated, but that's okay. It's still _fun._

You stagger your entrances to this particular store; you slip in first and use the little 7-11 aisles for cover, Chara walks in normally. They're better at that, since they can actually communicate with most of the organisms that occupy these spaces, and they make sure to follow in the wake of an adult or two; even ten extra seconds of Looking Like They Belong is precious.

What you aren't expecting is _another kid with no adults._ He's a weird one, too – a really floofy goat-kinda kid, probably very squishy. You're pretty sure that sweater is home-made, not to mention eerily similar to Chara's, and most eleven-ish year olds don't wear _rainbow scarves._ Where did he even get that? He's too much of a soft-looking fluffball to deal with aggression, and monsters are not exactly aggressive by nature in your person experience, so if he always wears that thing, he must get beaten up for it daily.

Anyway, the important thing is that if something goes wrong you can do some or another quick little thing to make it look like he's associated with you, and then ditch him to take all the blame. For now you'll just sort of angle yourself so he's less likely to pay attention – not exactly hard when he's rifling wide-eyed through candy shelves with an expression only seen on children who can't afford _all_ the candy but really really _want_ all of it.

Chara's cue comes a lot sooner than you thought it would: the crash of a magazine stand, an almost-convincingly pained _"_ _Fuck!"_ , a scuffle to pick things up like they actually care. You casually palm a few gift cards from their stands and up into secret little pockets you cut out inside of your sweater, and are about to grab some random candy for yourself and chocolate for Chara when you suddenly remember – _there's another kid right there._

This is not like you. You can't believe you _forgot._ You went on autopilot and you forgot there was someone else _five feet away from you._ It's just so weird that there's a mysterious rainbow goat child around that the information didn't really slot into your routine. He's staring at you, wide-eyed, mouth just slightly open in shock.

Welp.

Okay, then. You tug one side of your sweater up a little farther... just far enough that he can see the grip of a knife poking out from your waistband. His eyes go even wider. He doesn't make a sound.

An employee walks right by the entrance to your aisle and you can _see_ in her eyes that she's figured out what's going on. Chara isn't great at making distractions, uh... _last_ for more than a few seconds, and here you are being incredibly suspicious right next to all the things kids love to steal. She's human, too, so this other kid's _probably_ going to ping her racism gland. You'll feel bad taking advantage of that, but he's not the one who's trying to live outside the system. The worst that could happen is he'll get grounded or whatever it is that happens to kids with happy lives when they mess up.

You have to get out of here _now,_ throw caution to the wind and just _run_ before this escalates, before she can react. This is still manageable. You didn't _want_ it to turn into a chase, but you won't lose.

An arm snakes around your back and latches onto your shoulder. Lucky for you, you're in your kind of zen master thief state of mind, so you don't elbow whoever it is and then knife them out of pure reflex. That's ideal. Knifings bring a lot of attention.

"What are you kids doing in here? Where are your parents?"

"Howdy! We um, we didn't mean to cause any trouble. Our mom said we could buy some candy?" Okay. It's... the monster kid with the scarf? What? The employee furrows her brow and he points out a window at some car; a random woman's pumping it full of gas. She is one hundred percent not a monster. You wonder if that's his actual mom. It's not like that's impossible, just... _really_ uncommon. "You can talk to her if you want!"

She does want, and heads out in that direction while you silently give the kid kudos for pulling off that kind of bluff. If he sounds _fine_ with her talking to his 'mom' – or real mom, who knows, maybe he was actually being serious – then the easy assumption for the target to make is that it's all legit.

You have _no idea_ what'll happen when she _gets_ there, though, and you don't want to have to find out the hard way. Chara leans around the side of the aisle, you jerk your head hard toward the door, and then, because you wouldn't be _you_ if you didn't have poor impulse control, you shrug off scarf-boy's arm and grab his hand tight. Once the 7-11 lady is maybe halfway from there to the car, you _sprint_ out and away _,_ dragging him along with you and kicking over another rack of magazines to maximize chaos.

The sound of the door alarm screeching about those gift cards follows you into the evening, but a few tricky turns down side streets is all it takes to shake your one actual pursuer, who's busy yelling out random cliches.

Scarf-boy is out of breath by the time you make it to the park you're using as a rendezvous point.

"Was that really your mom?", Chara asks from the shadows. You let go of the other kid's hand while he chokes out a hilarious, terrified bleat.

 _"Golly,"_ he says, and oh wow, who says 'golly' in 1995? "Oh my _gosh_ , you scared me. No, my parents are around, uh... um... huh. Well, they're _somewhere?_ I don't actually know where here is. _"_

He shrugs while you skip over to Chara's side.

_* Why did you cover for me back there?_

Chara looks from you to the kid and you wonder what they're going to tell him you said. Probably something horrible and amazing.

"They say you look like a pride parade float crashing into a cotton candy facto –"

"Uh, I don't really know! I just did it before I had time to think."

... Oh. Huh! He actually knows ASL. That's really convenient. You've gotten so used to making Chara translate for you that it's going to be great to get to just talk to someone without making a whole spectacle out of it. Not that you don't love spectacles! You're just not a fan of _that_ flavor. Off to the side, you can see Chara trying not to pout. Aww. They usually have a lot of fun with this.

_* Thank you for helping, but really, why? I had just threatened you with a knife._

His eyes go wide, and for a moment you think he's going to freak out... then he smiles so brightly you'd think he _did_ get that whole candy aisle. You can all but see little rainbow sparkles in the air around him, that's how excited he... oh actually there really _are_ rainbow sparkles in the air! That's right, you sort of forgot he was a monster. You've heard they do weird things to their surroundings sometimes, but this is your first time seeing proof.

"I know! It was _so cool!_ Like something out of a movie!"

His arms are actually raised up in little excited fists. The sparkling intensifies. This is literally incredible. Wait, don't monsters usually have one special kind of magic each? Then what's his? Is it _rainbow?_ You hope it's rainbow magic. _You're pretty sure it is._

"... is pretty boring and my parents are _way too nice_ and where do you get knives I want to get knives but they probably won't let me I mean I couldn't even get my _ears pierced_ and –"

"So you think petty crime is cool, huh?", Chara asks, eyebrow raised, and you hope this is going where you think it is. "What's your name, fluffball?"

"O-oh! I'm, uh, Asriel! Asriel Dreemurr!"

You both just... pause for a few seconds to parse _that one._ Wow. You... aren't sure what you were expecting, but this was definitely not it.

"You're named after the angel of death," Chara says, disbelief written all over their face, at the precise moment you sign _* Wait, you're a prince?_

"Uh, yeah? I mean... it's not like the monarchy really _means_ anything anymore – wait, the _angel of death?"_ Asriel – that is seriously his name, how are you supposed to get over that – goes almost still with shock. Then he shakes his head. "No way. You're just saying that."

Huh. Monsters can blush? And through all that fur? Magic is weird. Meanwhile, Chara shoots you a glance and their lips twist into a wicked smirk.

"I'm not a liar," Chara lies lyingly. "I don't have time to waste on that shit."

 _* That's pretty cool,_ you sign along with your most 'sincere' smile.

Asriel looks down at his paw-hand things in wonder, like he could unleash rainbow-sparkle death if he wanted and he's only finding out about it now.

Maybe he actually _could._ Who knows how many of the things you think you know about monsters are actually true? For all that humans are still afraid of monsters, they sure can't be bothered to keep their info consistent.

 _"Golly,"_ he says for the second time in sixty seconds. "I thought it was just both of my parents' names put together. Dad's really bad at names."

_* It's probably both._

"Does that make me... _cool?"_

... No. It really doesn't. It really, really doesn't.

"Maybe if you had some bitchin' swords or you could shoot lightning with your mind. Then you'd probably be cool."

"Can it be _rainbow lightning?"_

Don't laugh. You won't laugh. This is doable. You can use this situation as long as you don't crack up. Chara's obviously struggling, too, but you can tell they're on a mission now and that'll come before anything else.

_* Rainbow lightning would be pretty cool. I bet you could get away with anything if you could do that._

There's a sudden buzz and a crackly burst of music and you're not sure whether to bolt because _cell phone_ _equals_ _risk factor_ or whether to finally break and just laugh until you puke. Boyz II Men, huh. That's... yep. That seems about right.

He goes to answer the phone. Chara flicks open a switchblade. He seems to get the picture.

"Howdy! Yeah, I'm okay! I just got kind of lost. No, I wasn't – I _know_ it's not safe to wander around in a human city – yeah – I'll find an intersection and call you back, okay? ... I love you too, mom." Click, and the phone is gone. Good. "Sorry," he says, staring at the dirt. "I didn't mean to say anything bad about humans."

"Oh, humans _are_ dangerous," Chara says. "Really dangerous."

His eyes light up.

"So hey, you want to be cool, right?"

He nods. Oh yes. This is beautiful.

"How about this. You're going to be sticking around these parts?"

He nods again.

"If you were to, say, give me your phone number," Chara grins, "And somewhere down the line we just _happened_ to need a little help with something?"

"You'd trust _me_ for... for doing _crimes?"_

God help you both. Just another minute or two and then you can go giggle yourself unconscious.

_* Definitely._

Asriel's growing aura of sparkles is... nothing short of glorious.

"Hmmmm," Chara says, very slowly. "If you were useful enough to do bigger stuff, we'd have to get you a knife or something someday..."

And just like that, they've sealed the deal and he's scrambling to get his cell phone number down on a scrap of paper from his pocket, which he shoves into Chara's hands. He's about to dash off to find his goat family when he finally remembers something that you would never have forgotten yourself if he wasn't so unbelievably _entertaining._

"Oh yeah! Um, gosh, sorry for being so rude and forgetting, but... what are your names?"

"Chara."

_* Frisk._

To go by the look on his face, you'd think you just gave him a winning lottery ticket.

"Then I uh, I'll make sure to keep my phone somewhere I can hear it!"

_* Yeah. See you later, Asriel._

Once he's out of sight, you turn to Chara. Amazement is a rare feeling for you, you have to say.

_* Did we just get a minion?_

"We just got a minion," Chara says. "Oh my _god._ We have a minion now."

_* A minion with magic. And a rainbow scarf._

"Was that why you dragged him along with us? To try to recruit him as a meat shield? Or, huh. Dust shield? Magic shield? What's monster meat even called?"

You totally dragged him along for that reason. Yep. It wasn't a random impulse _at all._

_* I totally dragged him along with us for that reason._

"You are a genius. I could kiss you right now, I swear to god."

At least ten seconds go by in total silence. You swallow for some reason.

"I mean. As a figure of speech. Obviously."

_* ... Right. Obviously._

They seem to be making a bit of a production out of cleaning their already-clean switchblade. You clear your throat to get their attention, and _oh._ They're blushing at _maximum power_. Their face is almost blotchy with pink.

_* So! We have a minion now._

"Yep. We have a minion."

The sun's starting to drift down toward the horizon, little by little. Today you met 'the angel of death,' who's a squishy goat who wears rainbow scarves and says things like _'golly'_ without a hint of irony, and now he's your minion. That's the important thing about today. You'll just focus on that part. It's a lot to process, anyway.

... just a figure of speech. Yeah. That's all that was. A simple figure of speech. A slip of the tongue. You know how it is. Well, actually _you_ don't, but the concept is relatable.

Chara is _really cute_ when they blush, though.

At least you'll always have that.


End file.
